Cookies
by Rakusa
Summary: Peeta's father's POV on a few seemingly random moments of his life.
1. Seventeen

Cookies

6.23.2012

Summary: Peeta's father's POV on a few seemingly random moments of his life.

–

AN: I got the idea to do this because there are a few times I've read a few books or have had it thrown down my throat as an issue and I've wondered about the child/sibling falling in love with their sibling's spouse or parent's love's child. Complicated I know in such broad terms, but you'll get it and its quite simple. Do I love that person because my relation loved them or their parents? Except, this story isn't in Peeta's POV and its not about his struggle to accept whether or not his love is true or because he knows the truth about his father's love for Katniss's mother or even because he's like his father, he loves the same type of traits or things. This story came about because everyones writing Peeta obsessed fics where he watches every little thing she does and spies on her even when that's not really possible, especially without her knowing about it with her hyper sensitivity to sounds and movement and even if she didn't catch it, Gale would. Also, someone said something about how Gale and Katniss were always together, except they weren't _always_ together. They didn't have classes together, being two years apart and they didn't eat together because the lunch breaks never converged at the same time. They didn't go into the woods together either, always meeting at their spot. Actually, there is a lot that was wrong with their possible relationship before hand though they were friends and spent time together, just not as much as people these days do or could.

–

_Seventeen_

I tap the girl's shoulder and she turns to look at me. Her silver eyes peering out at me under that blond fringe. She is one of the only people I know with blond hair. The rest have straight dark hair and dark eyes. Her looks are only part of the draw and I smile at her, handing over a basket of bread I managed to sneak from my parent's bakery. This would be my future too and thankfully I enjoyed it and was good at it.

She accepted the small package and gave me one of her serene smiles. For the first time in our life, we talk a little. I wish this day would never end but tomorrow was the reaping and I was just starting to realize that we were both in danger, though the names were only in there a minimum amount of times, they were compounding. I never realized the danger before and I wanted to capitulate on all the time I might have left with her.

Her mother called her away and I watched as this strange girl, one of the very few who were not from our district leave my side. She was a merchant's daughter yet she had another unique quality that I couldn't quite yet understand. There was something special about her.

The next day came quickly and I scanned the crowd of females for her and when I caught her eye, she smiled at me. I grinned back. A boy at my elbow, someone I had never spoken to, gave a startled grunt and I wondered if I accidentally hit him. I turn to apologize, but his eyes were beyond me, beyond the crowds and across the way. I follow his gaze and see what has captured his attention. The same thing that had captured mine.

I start to bristle. He can't have her, she's mine, or would be if I had more time with her. He only just noticed her now, when she smiled. I try to settle my nerves, if I, a boy and the same age as him hadn't noticed him before, she obviously wouldn't either. He was from the Seam, and we didn't have much to do with them. He didn't have a chance, she would prefer me.

She was already responding warmly to my efforts and I hoped it would continue that way. I look back across at her, but she's turned her back to us and she's talking with two girls, twins. I look out of the corner of my eye at the boy again, he might have been looking at one of them. But even cleaned up for the reaping, he couldn't quite remove the grime of the Seam from his skin. It gave his skin a darker quality and I was sure I even saw a few leaves in his hair. His hair darker than I had seen on anyone, even the others in the Seam. A fine dusting of coal on his hands.

No, the merchant's daughter would never pick him, he'd dirty all of her family's clothes and what could he offer her? Not much.

We only had these next two years and then we could live and breathe easily for the rest of our lives, start planning futures until we had children of our own. Until we were nineteen we had no chance of that. We could be ripped away from those plans at any moment. That's why we weren't allowed to work. None of us came back after that.

This year, to make matters worse, was the fiftieth quarter quell and this year's rules were outrageous. Two male and two female tributes were expected to play. Two each, making the grand total four from every single district. Fourth-eight people were going to go off and slaughter each other and only one would win.

Whoever it was and they came back would be a victor twice over but also that much more messed up. I can't even remember the last one that won from our district. Were any of them still alive? No, I recall now, that one died in a confrontation with a miner a few years back, the instinct to live was snuffed out with enough booze and morphling and the disgrace for living when everyone else was dead and unable to save any that followed. I think that would be the worst of it, the watching others go through what you had, and being unable to do anything about it, being so helpless.

The girls were called first. I watched as first a twelve year old was announced and then a seventeen year old. My heart squeezed as there was a commotion near the front, where _she _was. It hadn't been her named called, but one of the twins. The other one was bawling and clinging onto her sister with all of her strength. _She_ was hugging the other girl and refusing to let go and for a minute, one heart-stopping moment, I thought she'd volunteer to take the other girl's place. It was her friend and it was like her to step in and try to keep a family together.

But then she let go and I could see in her eyes that she was distancing herself from who she used to be just moments ago. She firmed her resolve and held back, even as the twin was ripped away from her. It was the first time I saw her say goodbye to someone. It wouldn't be the last or the most painful to watch. But it was the first and it was up there in the worst five.

Then the male names were called and I was once again spared from the reaping. There wasn't anyone I knew this year either, and only periphery with her friend, hardly knowing _her_. So even that twin girl didn't count. I was vaguely aware of one of the males on stage taking the twin's hand and holding it tight. Perhaps those two knew each other. Then he let her go and they went their separate ways, into the justice building and I didn't see any of them again until later that night on the television and only through that medium for the rest of the next three weeks.

The only time I saw anyone live again was when Haymitch, the boy who knew the girl, returned to our district. He was given a fairly warm welcome home for district twelve standards but it was also with a sense of unease. He had won, but he was also treated with a fair amount of distance, afraid of his mental quality. He only spoke out once, and that was in honor of Maysilee, the girl who he had tried to comfort at first and who he had allied with until she called it off.

Maysilee, how she had caused me so many problems without ever once speaking together. Once she was taken to the games, I never got to speak again to the merchant's daughter. Then when the girl had died, I saw her talking with the boy from the Seam, the unwashed, dirtier than ever boy. He was giving her something, but I never knew what it was, but it brought her comfort. Then after Haymitch returned and brought with him Maysilee's body, the merchant girl stood with the remaining twin and her family at the funeral. There were two others, but nobody recalled in our small circles.

Afterwards the family gave the girl Maysilee's mockingjay. The song bird had annoyed me at first, but I eventually got used to it and tried talking to her again. It was with a warmer reception than I had realized and wished I had pushed my luck earlier. We became friends but so too had she become friends with the boy from the Seam.

Then one day, I saw her sitting there, feeding that bird and he walked by, singing a song and the bird for the first time I had ever seen, was quiet and was not sleeping. I had never seen these songbirds quiet for anyone. I heard it could be done, and when she told him to come closer and he stopped to chat, the bird remained quiet, waiting for more. When he sang again at her insistence, repeating a few lines over and over again, the bird picked it up and joined in. It was quite lovely, or would have been if I liked that sort of thing.

Perhaps if it had been her that sang such sweet music, but no, it hadn't been. It had been him singing and it had been the bird responding to him. It wasn't only the bird. She responded to him as well. There was a warmth to her voice I hadn't heard before as she talked about nothing major, also a first and I walked away. Walked away from the conversation and walked away from her. I knew it, even if nobody else had, she had made her choice.


	2. All Grown Up With Kids of Their Own

_All Grown Up and with Kids of our own_

Surprisingly I had kids first. I got married to an inconsequential female, who was harsh spoken and very stubborn. I had given up on finding love again and instead looked for someone who wanted me. She'd wanted me and I gave in.

We had two kids almost back to back. Then, there was another one. He had surprised us almost as much as knowing that the merchant's daughter was expecting her own. She had become the town healer and had been so busy looking after everyone else's kids that she hadn't given much thought to her own.

I always knew she'd be a wonderful mother. She had that child and she adored it and the husband that gave her it. I always wondered if they'd decided not to and this had been a mistake. However from the moment I saw them looking at some of the breads in the window and how they acted as a family unit, it hadn't been anything but intentional.

My third boy was upstairs with his mother, who was taking some time off to rest, when I saw them again. She'd given up a lot to be with this boy from the Seam. Her job, her future, her position in life. Yet looking at them now, I could see that she was happy.

Happier than I had ever seen her in those years we'd grown up together. He looked happy too. Their baby, a little girl, she didn't look happy, she looked determined as she gazed up at the parents she probably didn't completely comprehend as her parents and took in everything they did.

Then her father sang a little tune and the girl's face transformed in an instant. That determined little face changed and a smile blossomed before a giggle popped out. I leaned against the counter and watched. Their lives were so vastly different than mine and what I had wanted. But as I watched I realized I could never make the merchant's daughter that happy.

All my bitterness at their love disappeared almost instantly. I thought kinder upon both of them and their small child. I had made my lot in life and perhaps I could have won her had I tried harder, but he was a hard lad to compete with. I had known it even then it was hopeless to get her to love me once he sang to her.

They'd done me a favor that day, now I knew that. I would have held on hopelessly long and I would have never gotten the girl or have a family of my own. Now I had three sons to carry on the mantle and a wife who supported and cared for me in her own way.

I made a vow to myself that day however, whatever this little girl wanted, asked for, if I could spare it, I would. I would look out for the daughter of the woman I still loved but was able to set aside and the man who mockingjays adored. It would be my gift to them.

–

It was six years later, my youngest boy had turned five that year and I was walking him to school. Up ahead I saw a man and his daughter walking hand in hand and conversing like the rest of the world didn't exist. I knew instantly who they were, her in her red dress and bow in her hair, her mother's touch, but had been too busy for much else.

I put a hand on my son's shoulder and pointed out the two unsuspecting people. Neither knew of what I was about to tell my boy, neither would never know. "That there is the husband and daughter of the woman that still holds my heart."

He stopped and considered them speculatively, even at this age he was a good listener and took in everything everybody said and weighed them carefully. Then his words surprised me as the look that crossed his features wasn't pleased. "Why would any woman choose him over you?"

"Because when he sings, birds stop to hear and when he stops, they sing in longing to hear him again."

The boy glanced up at me, my boy and probably the one closest in temperament and personality to me and he filtered through my words with a curious expression. Then he wandered off without saying anything.

I watched as the girl hugged her father tightly and refused to let go. At home was her mother and her little sister, freshly born this year but it was the father she didn't want to part with. Like mother, like daughter, I thought a tad unhelpfully. She clung to the man the boy had become and he said some gentle words and carefully pried her from his neck. He smoothed away her tears and brushed away the coal dust that clung to everything here. Then he plopped a kiss on her brow and walked away.

She turned and didn't see my son as he stopped to watch the children file in. I could see even from this distance him assessing her and he tilted his head sideways as if not sure he found her lacking or not. Certainly neither her mother nor father were the best looking children growing up but from what I had seen of her, the child was cute.

My son went in after her, not giving much away and not in anyway truly moved by her. I walked on home, sure I was to have chores that would be backbreaking in intensity. With the two eldest nearing the middle of their school career and the youngest just starting out, I'd have to do all of their chores throughout the school day as well.

Sure enough, I was kept busy until all of the children arrived home. Peeta, my youngest was suddenly bouncing into the room. I hadn't seen him like this since he'd discovered how to mix colors. "What is it my boy?" I asked, swinging him up into my tired arms.

"I heard her sing!" Peeta announced and even before he said more, I knew I'd lost him the same way I had lost her mother. "She sings like an angel! I never heard anything more beautiful in my entire life."

"What song did she sing?"

He answered, something they all had to do, but everyone had stopped to listen to her. She had gotten self-conscious in return and refused to sing another note if she were the only one to do so. "I'm going to marry her when we're both eighteen!"

I wanted to tell him that it was unlikely she'd live that long but at the same time I couldn't squash his dreams. He, like me, had sought after a girl who was unreachable. But he was attracted to her not in the way that I had been attracted to her mother. He was attracted to her in the way she was most similar to her father if he could be taken truthfully, through her gift of song. It was powerful enough to tear the woman I loved away from me, it was probably just as powerful, if not more so when she sang.

If Peeta took after me, then we'd move mountains and molehills to make the woman ours, we fell completely and irresistibly in love with them almost instantly. The only thing I could do to console myself was that he did not love her because I loved her mother. It wasn't anything warped like that, though there was probably some of that in there too.

I also hoped that in time his intentions would wan, that he'd find some other girl, not of the seam to love. For if their child survived the first few years, she still had to make it through the reaping and possible starvation.

Instead I just took Peeta up onto my shoulder and walked with him along the chain link fence, listening to him babble on about the girl he hadn't even spoken to. Hoping his life could end up golden.


	3. Eleven and Hopeless

_Eleven and Hopeless_

All these years I'd watched five people. Peeta, the man from the seam, the merchant's daughter turned would-be-doctor and their two daughters. The daughters because they were the merchant's girl's offspring and I felt connected to them in some odd fashion. The rest were pretty obvious, except maybe the most obvious, Peeta.

Peeta was my youngest and my most sensitive child. He was strongly built like his brothers and yet still the runt of the family and only because years separated him and his nearest sibling. He would probably turn out stockier than the rest if he kept up his current schedule and incline of weight he carried.

I didn't watch him because of this, I watched him to learn of news about _her_.

My wife was anything but stupid and long ago she had figured it out. She detested the seam from the beginning but this made matters worse. She only veiling stood the seam who managed to make up enough money to buy a loaf of bread, but otherwise she treated them like trash.

Last month the unspeakable happened, and the two girls had lost their father. The little one was already well liked around town while the elder one was a bit more rough around the edges. She wasn't afraid of stating what she thought and her mouth got away from her at times. Even her mother had told her not to sing a certain song and after that, I hadn't heard her sing it.

She could get herself into a lot of trouble with that mouth. But that mouth and much more besides had been closed for this last month. Peeta informed me today that they finally returned to school. He had been over the moon with the prospect, but I heard no word about their mother so I could not join in on that delight.

I later learned that the mother had shut down and had gone through some sort of spiral. Later she could cure it, but not for herself. It was during this time though that I watched the older one get thinner and thinner. She couldn't ask for tessera, she was too young and their income was steadily disappearing in compensation for missing father and husband.

I wanted to help, but every time I made a move towards them, I was keenly aware of my wife's eyes and the disapproval that went along with it. I had been threatened once already that if I dared thought I could make a new life with the gloomy widow, then I'd have an important anatomy missing and would not be properly sown up so I'd bleed slowly to my death.

So I had to sit back and watch as they struggled. I was out of the house the day everything changed again.

Peeta had gotten the brunt of my wife's anger. His mother thought I set him up to it and even if I hadn't, she was annoyed that we helped keep those three alive. Dead they would no longer pose a threat to her. Alive, she'd always be reminded that I didn't love her and that our relationship was very fragile indeed.

It was also more than that, he'd burnt the bread and it meant a strain on our resources but also because she was always a prejudice woman. She didn't want their kind near by and she certainly wouldn't lift a finger to help a single one.

I wanted to, but I would wait to see it out. I had several children and I couldn't afford to be giving away provisions that my sons would have to pay for. Especially Peeta, as he was the last one to get tessera and I didn't want him to have to do it too often, especially not for all of us, his name would be in there more than most.

That night though, I gave him an extra helping of food behind his mother's back and clasped him on the shoulder. He was growing up to be a great boy and would continue to be a wonderful young man. He had more heart than my other children, more passion, even for the baking business which wasn't his ideal profession while the others took to it faster. A frown was etched onto his face all through supper and went off to bed without saying much.

Then a few days later, Peeta came in, smiling once more. He was easily moved in temperament at this age, but it was always due to someone else. Someone in particular. He was brimming with energy and wanted to share everything all at once, but he picked his words carefully and I was entranced, seeing the picture he painted just as well as if he had used a brush.

"She was back at school today, both of them." Peeta announced. "I didn't talk to her, too shy to say anything, but she was looking at me. Looking as if she didn't know quite what she wanted to say to me either. But I haven't heard her speak in a long time, turns out she doesn't speak much during classes either, but Prim does, talks a lot I hear. At any rate, Katniss was there and she was looking at me in a softer fashion than usual, usually she just sees right through me as if I don't exist at all, now she's seen and acknowledges me in some way." Peeta frowned suddenly. "Then she was looking at the ground, as if entranced by something and I tried to see it, but I only saw a yellow flower peaking up. And she was all grins and practically ran from the field, as if I no longer existed again. Maybe it wasn't such a great day after all."

I couldn't bare to hear it, and since I was a sucker for their family and for love, I shake my head. "Be grateful for what you get. Yesterday she wouldn't have seen you at all, now she at least knows you exist, even for a moment. Keep at it, hold your pace and she'll eventually come around."

Apparently, not.

For the next several years I didn't hear Peeta talk about her much at all, though I saw her on a more regular basis. She and a tall, older fella kept coming to the back of my door, baring squirrel and since I liked them so much, and since I wanted to help her in some way, I kept buying them, even though nobody else really cared for it. My wife would have sent them out on their ear if she caught it, but she didn't say anything about how I procured them.

At first I hadn't seen her at all, but over a course of six months after Peeta came in happy, I started seeing her unloading fresh meat to a few people she had made the rounds, with her father. Then slowly more as they introduced her to others and she branched out. I noticed that while not impossible, she had a greater difficulty in offloading the squirrels, so I casually mentioned that I had a fondness for them.

She started bringing the squirrels to me and a few more months passed before I noticed the older boy hanging about in the tree line as I paid for the vermin. Then he was there at her side and offering up other goods and sometimes I bought from him as well. Then I was buying solely from him on occasions when she had been detained by something else, or injured. I didn't mind, supporting one supported both and if I refused the boy from the seam, then I would be turning my back on them again.

Her mother got better, and I was pleased to see her around town gathering supplies. It was a slow process but one day she even smiled at me. But if I saw the two together, without being noticed, I would see Katniss send the most unholy of glares at her mother's back. There was something adrift between the two of them, and it only seemed to freeze at that level of tolerance.

Katniss grew before my eyes, still remaining somewhat beautiful and somewhat terrifying, having both her mother and father so dominant in her. She was no longer so young and defenseless, but still I helped wherever I could. I even bought milk from her sister or on the rare occasions, cheese.

Peeta even encountered her a few times between opening the door for her sales or on the street, but they always passed like strangers and never really spoke to one another. Though the relationship with that other boy had grown more than just as partners in selling meat, she looked up to him and he started seeing her in a different light. It was clear from their reactions to one another. For the first time since Peeta had met her, I felt that he would be following the same path I had. But since he no longer spoke of her, I figured he had given up on loving the merchant's daughter, or in this case, granddaughter like I had.

I should have known better. I was after all only part of Peeta.


End file.
